Hold on Tight by Stephanie Tyler Read Free Book Online Page A

ago to come in twice a month. Wanda had a key.
    Typically, the woman didn’t rearrange things but she was always on Jamie to change things up. Jamie had grown tired of explaining that she liked things the same and made sure she worked late on the days Wanda was here. She always came home to a vase of flowers, fresh from Wanda’s garden.
    Jamie had definitely done this for too long—twenty-two years of being in hiding with witness protection, even though the first two were relatively uneventful, did not get easier over time.
    Heart beating too fast, she put the safety on the gun and left it on the table next to the bed. She sank into the mattress and shook her head, glad no one else had been around to see her overreact.
    Her head began the familiar throb—by morning, she’d have a full-blown migraine if she didn’t take medicine. But she hated the meds; they made her feel loopy and not like herself. Kind of the way she was around Chris.
    She didn’t want to like Chris Waldron. Didn’t want to get involved with him, sleep with him or find herself fascinated by him. Didn’t want him to know the things he did about her past. She’d exorcized him from her life two months ago. The only place she’d been unable to rid herself of him was in her dreams. At night, in the dark, her hands would trail over her body the way Chris’s had in that dark, downed plane, and she could hear the rain strumming the roof as she touched herself.
    The sensation was never the same, left her with a big, empty ache that forced her to curl into a ball until morning light. And when morning did come, she was that cool, confident woman again. She was capable.
    No, she hadn’t told Chris Waldron everything. And she never would.

CHAPTER 4
    The JAG lawyer was waiting for Chris and Saint in the admiral’s office. The admiral himself was long gone, but insisted that Chris meet with the lawyer that night, Before more of this shit comes down on Chris’s head , he’d said irritably.
    Saint and the lawyer spoke, while Chris focused on the large TV screen in the corner of the room, displaying CNN.
    “Five went in, two came out. It was a dangerous mission. They’re all dangerous. But when major world figures go to Africa and bring massive publicity with them, there’s going to be trouble,” Saint was saying, even as an interview of the ambassador and his wife was displayed in living, breathing Technicolor across the screen.
    They’d been on every major news media outlet since their escape, praising the military for the action it took. However, the actress mourned the loss of African lives, as well as those of the peacekeepers. All Chris could hear when he watched her speak were her cries.
    She still bore bruises on her cheek and arms, although she swore she hadn’t been raped. She’d told Cam that the men who’d kidnapped them had threatened her, scared her—that she’d been screaming because she heard them torturing an American in the next room.
    Hearing that spoken out loud made Chris wince.
    In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been the best idea to meet tonight with the lawyer defending him.
    “I’m advising you not to speak to Cam,” the lawyer, whose name was Bob or Todd or something, told him.
    Chris nodded in agreement, knowing full well he had every intention of not following that advice. Cam was driving in to see him tomorrow—the two men planned on hashing out what had happened, the way they hadn’t been able to before.
    “I’m serious, Chief,” Bob-Todd continued. “You don’t want to be set up to take the fall. The FBI’s got some serious allegations and some damned good evidence. The agent assigned to investigate you hasn’t pulled any punches—she wants a meeting for tomorrow. According to the ME’s initial report, they’re doing an autopsy to see if ballistics indicates a match grade M25. Only you and Mark carried that particular weapon.”
    “And rebel soldiers as well.” Saint slammed his fist down. “Do you